


because the sea and the rocks don't feel pain

by thenightpainter



Series: (the artist Flint series) [2]
Category: Black Sails
Genre: Drawing to cope, Flashbacks, Flint Angst, Grief/Mourning, I cried when I thought of this idea, M/M, Until it got too painful, canon character 'death', painter!Flint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-31
Updated: 2017-05-31
Packaged: 2018-11-07 11:21:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11057886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thenightpainter/pseuds/thenightpainter
Summary: Silver darted his eyes between the pages littered on the floor and Gates. Gates only sighed at him. “Here, let's clean this up before the captain realizes you saw this.”“The captain’s rather odd, isn’t he?” Silver began as he gathered the papers. Gates didn’t respond.Amongst the papers, Silver saw more of the aged drawings, more portraits. There was a particularly smudged one of a couple smiling, several more of a woman with long dark hair, all dated before 1708. He noticed another of the same woman, but the setting was different, a look of sorrow across her face as she sat in front of a window.“Oh come on, he reads books, he draws, and rather well at that, not the mention the way he speaks,”and the way he lies, Silver continued as Gates cast him a frustrated look, “hardly what I’d expect from a pirate captain.”





	because the sea and the rocks don't feel pain

**Author's Note:**

> Big thanks to [Bean](http://bean-about-townn.tumblr.com/), who was my beta for this!

Silver was surprised by what he discovered in the captain’s cabin. He had always thought pirates were illiterate monsters who liked treasure and rum, hardly interested in things like art or literature. After the terrifying stories he’d heard of Captain Flint, he’d never have imagined seeing half- finished paintings and a shelf full of books among his possessions.

He studied the painting upon the easel. It wasn’t of the sea, but of cliffs and forests that Silver himself didn’t find at all familiar. Looking across the table, he saw many books he didn’t recognize, some looked to be in spanish. Silver was hardly the reader himself, so he wasn’t sure what he was expecting.

A particular book on the shelf caught his eye. It wasn’t the book itself as much as the loose pages sticking out of it. As he pulled it out he realized the thing was covered in dust, and Silver started cleaning it with his sleeve. It seemed to be an old half-filled log book that had been repurposed.

Looking inside he found some old sketches. Many were of landscapes and the sea, the various shapes of clouds and waves. Moving through, Silver noticed there were several done on a thicker paper that seemed to have weather poorly. The first he saw was of a woman, she looked like a younger Eleanor Guthrie. As Silver flipped it over he noticed the date, October, 1707.  

Suddenly he heard the door to the cabin open. Silver quickly slammed the book shut and tried to hide it behind his back. To his misfortune, it slipped out of his hand, sending pages of drawings across the cabin floor.

 Silver was somewhat relieved to see that it was Gates that had stumbled upon him, and not the captain himself.

“What are you doing, you shouldn’t be in here!” the man began, with look of frustration combined with shock.

Silver darted his eyes between the pages littered on the floor and Gates.

 “What are _you_ doing in here?” Silver tried to respond, even though there was really no point.

Gates only sighed at him before approaching the mess. “Here, let's clean this up before the captain realizes you saw this.”

“The captain’s rather odd, isn’t he?” Silver began as he gathered the papers. Gates didn’t respond.

 Amongst the papers, Silver saw more of the aged drawings, more portraits. There was a particularly smudged one of a couple smiling, several more of a woman with long dark hair, all dated before 1708. He noticed another of the same woman, but the setting was different, a look of sorrow across her face as she sat in front of a window.  

Moving further along the floor, Silver noticed several pages that showed a man, many pages smudged, his face slightly different in every one. Gates snatched the page off the floor before Silver could reach for it to take a closer look.

 “I’m not entirely sure what you’re referring to.” Gates responded to Silver’s earlier question.

“Oh come on, he reads books, he draws, and rather well at that, not the mention the way he speaks,” _and_ _the way he lies_ , Silver began as Gates cast him a frustrated look, “hardly what I’d expect from a pirate captain.”

“I’d be more careful about what you say,.” Gates said, taking the book and the remaining pages from Silver. “You’re lucky Flint needs you for the schedule. Let’s hope he doesn’t change his mind if he discovers you were digging around in his things.”

Silver opened his mouth again to speak, but before he could, the door opened again. This time it was Flint.

“What the fuck are you doing in here?” the captain said, looking at Silver before scanning the two men and the book Gates was holding.

“I came looking for you,” Gates started, but Flint wasn’t concerned with him. Silver could tell by the cold eyes that now met him.

Flint took the book from Gates, and Silver found both the man staring at him.

“Alright, we better leave,” Gates said, he grabbed Silver by the arm and motioned towards the door.

Silver took a look at Flint before he proceeded towards the door. He wondered whether it would be wise to speak to the captain about any of this.

He stopped, looking back at Flint, “You know, it’s too bad you stopped drawing portraits, those are quite good, better than I’ve seen anyone do in a while.” 

“Just get out.” Flint didn’t even look up at him, but Silver could sense the rage in his voice.

Looking back one last time before Gates dragged him back onto the deck, Silver saw Flint  was still stood there, running a hand over the cover of the book.

That man was full of mystery. Just when Silver thought he had a reading on him there was something new that changed his view entirely. Now Silver was determined to figure him out.

~~~~~

The dark green cover of the book felt rough under his hands. He remembered when he first found it, perhaps the first thing he ever stole. It was smooth back then.

James hadn’t opened the thing in a long time, never truly looked at the paintings contained within in it in years. Now the pages where all rearranged, likely upside down and all out of order.

He remembered the book Thomas had bought him back in London. It was a gift, something he would never have been able to afford on his own. The first and only true sketchbook he had ever owned.

 

_“You never told me you could draw, James!” Thomas said, excitedly, looking through the pages James had shown him._

_“Well I did say I liked to sketch. I didn’t think it was relevant, my lord.” James responded._  

_He had recently attended the salons at the Hamilton residence. Several artists had presented their works. Mid- conversation with Thomas, James had mentioned that he did enjoy drawing himself and then Thomas had asked if James would be willing to share some of his drawings._  

_“Yes, sketch, you never said you were this good! These are marvelous! Miranda, you’ve got to take a look at these.” Thomas said, motioning to Miranda, who had been playing the harpsichord for them just before._  

_“It’s hardly anything, my Lord, I simply enjoy drawing from time to time.” James responded, trying not to blush. He had never really made a habit of showing these things to people, it was a rather private activity for him._

_“James, both Thomas and I were schooled in drawing, but I doubt either of us could manage to capture something so well.” Miranda said as she held up a drawing of a young woman._

_James remembered her, she had offered to pose for him and flirted shamelessly. He recalled she was rather disappointed when their time together had ended when the drawing was finished._  

_“The detail, the shading in the hair, you are full of surprises, Lieutenant,” Thomas continued. “When did you begin?”_

  _“Oh, as a child, my grandmother used to draw, she suggested I try, it’s been something I’ve done ever since.”_

_“Might I suggest, James, if you wish to, of course, draw something of Thomas and I?” Miranda asked, looking up from the pieces she was holding._

_“That is a wonderful idea, dear!” Thomas added before James could respond._

_“I suppose I could,” James said, with a smile._

_“Where would you like us?” Miranda asked, standing up from her chair._

_“By the harpsichord, both of you, that would be excellent.”_

_“I’ll have to get you some proper supplies one of these days, so you don’t have to keep using that parchment,” Thomas added, as he went to join Miranda._

 

“Captain, are you alright?”

James remembered again where he was. Looking around, he wasn’t sure how he ended up sitting at his desk, with the page open to the drawing of Thomas and Miranda. He had lost himself in the memory. Carefully, he closed the book.

“Captain?” Gates continued, more urgently this time.

“Yes, Gates, what is it?” He responded, not wanting to be fully drawn out of the memory quite yet.

“No one’s seen you for a while, just wanted to check up on you after, well, the incident earlier.”

“Ah. I’ll be out shortly.”

As Gates went to leave, James stood to return the book to the shelf. His fingers brushed the spine again. James closed his eyes again for a moment.

 

_“It’s wonderful, James, you’ve captured my likeness so well. This is perhaps the best portrait anyone’s ever drawn of me.” Thomas said as he looked at the drawing over his shoulder._  

_The drawing showed Thomas lounging on James’ bed, reading a book._

_“Well, I’m certain no one else would attempt to draw you with this little clothing on.” James responded, with a smug grin._

_That only makes it all the more accurate,” Thomas whispered before kissing James’ neck. “Now, come back to bed with me, you can draw me however you like later.”_

_Thomas turned to face James, taking his head in his hands and kissing him softly, before taking James’ hand and pulling him towards the bed._

 

There was an agonizing pain in his chest. James let go of the book, trying not to let out a cry. Standing up straight, he tried to hold back the tears. Perhaps it was best if he left that book untouched again for a while.  

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the that post from the early pilot script where there was a painting in Flint's cabin. I've always headcanoned that James enjoyed drawing or sketching things. Spending time at sea, he couldn't constantly be planning things, so perhaps when he wasn't reading, he was drawing something. Because you know, sometimes you really need to distract yourself from your angst.


End file.
